


Better Days

by taybow48



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Artist Dean Winchester, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Friends to Lovers, Human Castiel, Kinda, M/M, Mechanic Dean Winchester, Sad and Happy, Writer Castiel, destiel au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-21
Updated: 2015-09-19
Packaged: 2018-04-16 10:03:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4621176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taybow48/pseuds/taybow48
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In acquaintance, friendship, or partnership, they always come back to each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 2016

_October 28, 2016_

\--

As the house came into view, he felt a lump rise in his throat and a weight settle in his heart. It had been six years since he’d been here. Dread quickly seized his body as he wondered if this was a terrible idea. Desperately, he clutched the white roses closer to his chest. The wafting smell exuding from the flowers calmed him enough to breath deeply once then twice.

He had to do this. He couldn’t turn back now. This was part of the healing process, and the longer he waited the harder it would be. 

Closure. He just needed closure. 

Taking another deep breath, he put a small, pleasant smile on his face and walked heavily to the front door. He held the flowers awkwardly by his side as he reached out and tapped the wooden door three times. 

He heard a gasp and a giggle that caused his fake smile to feel more sincere. There was a rustle behind the door as stomping feet bombarded the front door. The side window curtain caught his attention as the curtain was pulled back to reveal a pair of small, familiar green eyes peeking between the yellowing fabric. He gave the child a greeting smile, and he heard more laughter from inside. 

Finally, the little girl, Mary he suspected, opened the door just an inch. 

“Hiya, mister!” Mary greeted as she wobbled the door back and forth. “Can I help you?” 

He smiled at her and squatted down to her level, keeping his distance so not to frighten her. She had grown so much since the last time he held her in his arms. He was sure she couldn’t remember him. 

“My name is Castiel, and I’m a friend of your father’s,” he replied. “Is he home?”

She turned her head back inside and then faced Castiel again. 

“No, but momma is in the shower,” she whispered. “Papa will be home soon.”

Quietly, Cas looked down at the ground. Then, he held the roses out to the little girl. 

“These are for you and your mom,” he said wearily. “I didn’t want to come empty handed, and I know your mother loves roses…” 

He felt like he was babbling, but excitement rose in the child’s eyes as she pushed the door open and reached for the bouquet. She buried her nose in the flowers then turned and ran back into the house leaving the door wide open. 

Standing from his crouched position, Castiel watched her little feet slide along the wooden floors as she made her way to the kitchen. He heard a clambering through the cabinets that echoed throughout the house. 

“Are you gonna come inside, Cas?” Mary shouted over the running water. 

The name sent a jolt through his body as memories came rushing back. Warm hands intertwined together and bright, green eyes shimmering in the early morning light. His heart hammered against his chest as he pushed the thoughts back down. 

Castiel looked at the threshold. This was his last chance to back out. 

Then, the little girl was holding his hand and leading him inside. 

“Mom and Dad talk about you all the time,” she announced as she closed the door behind them and pulled him into the sitting room. Mary pointed to the rocking chair closest to the bookshelves. “Sit there,” she commanded. “I’ll be right back.” 

Castiel awkwardly sat in the moving chair as he surveyed the room. The walls were no longer beige; instead they were a deep blue and were decorated with pictures of the Winchester family. Standing, he walked over to observe them. 

There was a photo of Mary smiling without her two front teeth. Next to it was a picture of a younger Sam and Jess laughing and posing in front of a Stanford flag. Castiel instinctually smiled at their contagious happiness. Then, he saw a photo of a bundle held tight in Jess’ arms with Mary and Sam peering over at the newborn. 

Mary bounded into the room carrying a glass of water. 

“Here ya go!” she said happily as she thrust the drink into his hand. 

“Thank you,” Cas breathed. He took comfort in the condensation covering the glass as he took a sip then cleared his throat. “Hey, Mary, who is the baby in this picture?”

“That’s Henry,” she said with a grin. “My little brother!”

Castiel nodded once as he realized how much he’s missed. 

“And that’s you,” Mary claimed as she pointed to another photo on the wall. 

Turning, Cas looked in the direction she was gesturing to and sucked in a tight breath. 

He felt his throat tighten and his heart constrict. It was a photo from their wedding.

It was the moment after they had said their vows, the first time they looked at each other as a married couple. Dean’s arms were wrapped around Castiel’s neck and his head was thrown back in the widest, happiest smile as Cas’ lips were barely brushing Dean’s jaw. 

Castiel could remember the intensity of the moment. The care, the love, and the devotion. He could still feel the taste of Dean’s lips on his and the promise of forever.

Forever. 

Hanging his head, Castiel felt Mary’s touch on his arm. 

“You okay?” she asked with sweet concern. 

He felt his eyes sting, but he nodded. “Yeah, I’m gonna be okay.”


	2. 1995

_October 28, 1995_

\--

The bars closed two hours ago, but they were still laughing and drinking around a bonfire on the beach. The waves rolled steadily back and forth from the shore as the recent graduates smiled and laughed with each other while clinking beer bottles in cheer. Steadily, the sun threatened to peak over the horizon. Oranges and pinks colored the clouds in the early dawn promising the beginning of a new era.

From across the fire, the boy with green eyes was laughing joyously with a red haired girl. His smile shown brightly and made his face crinkle with a genuine humor. She ruffled his hair then moved from his lap to her girlfriend’s side. As the young man’s eyes followed her, he caught the gaze of the bluest eyes. Looking through the flames, Castiel blushed and turned his head from the attention. 

“Class of 1995!!” yelled one of the graduates. The group whistled and hollered. 

With a downcast smile, Castiel’s eye lashes flittered open to look back across the fire. The green eyes were gone. Sighing, Cas smiled sadly and traced the rim of his beer can, beginning to feel the pull of exhaustion. 

“You know,” a warm body sank to the sand next to Castiel. “We’ve never actually met.” 

With a huffed laugh, Castiel turned to the young man beside him. “Actually we have,” he said. “Several times, in fact.” 

Dean recoiled at his fact with a scrunched up face. “Nah,” he denied with a shake of his head. “Have we?” 

“Mhm, we first met at a party. For forty-five minutes you tried to convince me that West Virginia isn’t a state. Then, you threw up on my shoes.” 

“No,” Dean groaned. “That did not happen.” 

Laughing, Castiel nodded. “It did though.” 

“I’m sorry.” Dean ran his hands through his short brown hair. “My God, that is so embarrassing.” 

“Nah,” Cas shrugged. “You were adorable.”

“Really?”

“No, not really. I had to wash my shoes twice.”

“I really am sorry,” he repeated. “I’m Dean, Dean Winchester.”

“Castiel Novak.”

“Well, Cas,” Dean sighed. “Any way I can make it up to you?” 

With a grin, Castiel stood up. “You can give me a ride home. I’m not too far from here.” He turned without waiting for Dean to follow him. Waving goodbye to some friends, and hugging others, he climbed the sand dune up to the pavement. Within seconds, he heard Dean jog up beside him. 

His keys jangled between his hands as he lead the way to the shining black Impala parked along the sea wall. The engine purred to life as they drove back toward the university. 

“So what are you planning on doing now?” Cas whispered above the low whirring of the radio. 

Dean tilted his head to look at Cas. 

“Hopefully, kiss you a little and then make sweet love—”

“No,” Castiel interrupted with a smile. “I mean, like, where do you see yourself in ten years? Or fifteen maybe?”

With a nervous laugh, Dean shrugged. “I don’t know, man. Maybe I’ll fix up some cars or something.” Castiel stared at him as he drove. “What?”

“You have a degree in Fine Arts, Dean.”

“Yeah, but I like fixing up old cars.” 

Turning to face out the passenger window, Castiel watched the sun rise fully. “Suit yourself, then.”

“Well, what about you, hmm?”

“I want to be a writer,” he murmured. “Or something.”

“Big dreams,” Dean said as he turned down the university’s street toward the senior apartments. “You’re gonna be great.” 

Cas snorted. “You don’t even know me.” 

“Yeah, but I just know it.” He pulled into a parking spot. “Call it a hunch.”

Approaching his apartment, Cas fumbled with the keys. Dean’s arm was wrapped around his waist pulling him tight against his body. 

“Please excuse all the boxes, Dean,” he muttered. “Move out day is next week.” 

“No worries,” he pushed them through the door and shut it quickly. Pinning Cas against the closed door, Dean kissed him chastely then deepened the kiss. Cas moaned against him. 

Dean’s tongue slipped sweetly between his lips and along his tongue. His hands tangled at the base of Castiel’s curls pulling him up for a better angle. Slowly, he trailed kisses from his mouth down to his neck, his hands trailing farther and farther. Leaning backwards, he pulled them toward Castiel’s bedroom.

“Are you voting for Clinton/Gore in the election next year?” Cas gasped. “It’s important to vote, you know. Public service and all.” Dean continued to press kisses against his throat, slowly working back up to his mouth. “I haven’t researched enough to figure out who would best change Am—” Dean’s lips found his again. “Ah, America—mmm—you know?” 

Dean pulled back. 

“Are you okay?” 

“Mhm, yeah,” Cas stammered. “I, umm, need to go to the bathroom real quick, you know, grab the condoms and lube.”

Pulling out of Dean’s arms, Castiel smiled and walked to the bathroom. Shutting the door, he took a deep breath. 

“You can do this, Castiel,” he spoke to the mirror. “It’s not like you haven’t done this before… You can do this without going into hysterics.” 

He inhaled slowly then exhaled through his mouth. Rifling through the drawers, he pulled a condom and his regular bottle of lube. 

Shooting a confident smile back into the mirror, Castiel opened the door. 

Dean was pulling his jacket back on and reaching for his keys slung across the floor. 

“Oh,” Castiel’s smile faltered. 

“Jesus, Cas!” Dean hissed. “This isn’t, this isn’t what…” 

“You’re leaving,” Castiel stated. 

“No, no,” Dean whispered reaching for Cas’ arm. “Uh…”

Cas pulled away from Dean. “Just go, it’s fine.” He leaned against the bathroom door. “Feel free to use the fire escape.” 

“No, Cas, stop,” he hushed. “I’ll stay, okay? I’ll stay.”

He pulled his jacket off and slipped his boots and jeans off into a puddle on the floor. Then, he pulled the blankets back and slid onto the bed. 

“Come on, Cas,” Dean whispered. “We can just sleep, you know? We can be friends.”

“Friends,” Cas repeated. 

“Yeah, come on. I’ll stay,” Dean cooed. 

Reluctantly, Cas stripped to his boxers and lay in the bed next to Dean. Within moments, Dean brought him close to his chest. His hands idly combed through Cas’ dark curls and swiped comforting touches across Castiel’s bare shoulders. 

“Is today the 28th?” Dean asked. 

“Technically.”

“Then it’s St. Jude’s Day,” Dean whispered into Cas’ hair. “Patron saint of Lost Causes.” 

Castiel huffed as he picked at Dean’s plain white t-shirt clinging to his chest. 

“When I was a kid, my mom used to sing _Hey Jude_ to sing me to sleep,” he continued. Castiel closed his eyes as he focused on Dean’s heartbeat inside his chest. “She said angels were looking out for me.” He smiled. 

“I’m sure she’s right.”

Dean squeezed Castiel a little tighter. 

“Hey, Dean?” 

“Yeah, Cas?” 

“Would you like to celebrate St. Jude’s Day with pancakes in the morning?”

Dean nodded with a lopsided smile. “How can I say no to that?”


	3. 1996

_October 28, 1996_

\--

“It isn’t going to fit.”

“Yes, it will.”

“Well, it’s not.” 

“Not with that attitude!”

“Stop, stop, stop! Dean!” 

The wooden cabinet thudded to the ground.

“Cas!” Dean exclaimed. “We almost had it.” 

Rolling his eyes, Castiel turned and looked back at the doorframe. 

“Maybe you need smaller furniture, buddy,” Dean sighed. “Come on, let’s try again.”

With a groan, Cas turned back to the stubbornly large piece and lifted. 

“Just a little closer, Cas,” Dean whispered as he adjusted his grip around the corners and took a step forward. “Pivot, pivot!” 

With just a little push, the cabinet slid snuggly through the door and parked in the entryway. Cas leaned against the wall and sighed in relief. 

“That was close!” Dean whistled as he stood beside his best friend. “When you move, leave that cabinet.” 

Laughing at the horror in Castiel’s expression, Dean sauntered to the floor. 

“Ah, it’s nap time,” he breathed. 

Castiel melted beside him. 

The old, well-worn apartment had itchy grey carpet and beige walls, but Castiel fell in love with the unique spiral staircase and large windows overlooking the ocean. His eyes slid across the room to take in the large amount of boxes that needed to be unpacked. How he accumulated this much stuff was beyond him. 

Dean groaned beside him. 

“My back hurts,” he whined. Stretching slowly, his tshirt lifted to reveal his softening tummy, and within seconds Castiel was tickling him. 

“Stop complaining, Dean!” Cas laughed. “You’re like a grumpy old man!” 

Tears leaked from Dean’s eyes as his laughter echoed across the room. With weak attempts, Dean pushed at Castiel’s torturous hands and tried squirming away from him. 

“Ahh,” he yelped. “You’re nasty ass carpet is gonna give me carpet burn!” 

Their laughter softened and Castiel rolled over to look up at the ceiling. 

“I’m going to miss you,” Cas muttered. He turned to look at Dean. He had a sad smile on his lips at Castiel’s confession. 

“I know,” he replied. Clearing his throat, he continued, “So, Casanova, you better call me. All the time. I’m worried about you living alone. You gotta check in, got it?” 

Cas chuckled and pushed himself off the floor. “Okay, mom.” 

“I mean it!” Dean followed the other man into the compact kitchen. “What if you get robbed? Or, I dunno, kidnapped or some shit!” 

Cas jumped to a seat on the countertop. He stretched his back and neck, shaking off the edge of tension from moving boxes all day. Dean shook his head and dove into the refrigerator. He handed Cas a Diet Crème Soda and pulled a beer for himself; then, he pulled out the ingredients for Reuben sandwiches. 

“Hey, start heating up the stove,” Dean muttered as he rummaged into the grocery bags of pantry foods. 

Hopping off the counter, Cas turned the dial for the stovetop to medium and reached into the box titled _Kitchen_. 

“Do you just need a pan?” Cas asked. 

“Yeah, and some plates and shit to eat with,” Dean chuckled as he peeled the lid off the sauerkraut. “Oh! Also two bowls. The microwave works right?” 

Cas rolled his eyes as he pulled the dishes from the box. “Yes, Dean.” 

Quickly, Dean heated the pickled cabbage and meat in the microwave while Cas began preparing the bread for the grill. After a few minutes, they were sitting cross-legged on the kitchen floor eating their first meal in Cas’ new place. 

Dean was on his third beer when he scooted closer to sit beside Cas and nudge his shoulder. 

“How do you feel, Cas?” he whispered, edging closer. 

Cas smiled at his friend’s proximity. “About what?” 

“About all this,” Dean gestured largely around him. 

Shrugging, Cas pushed his plate onto Dean’s. 

Dean threw an arm around his shoulder. 

“If anyone can do this, it’s you, Cas. I don’t know anyone who has more determination and talent as you,” Dean reassured. “You’re gonna be an amazing writer.” 

Blushing, Cas pushed at him slightly. 

“You say all kinds of things.”

Dean drained the last of his beer. “Yeah, but I mean it.” 

Leaning in, Dean pressed a chaste kiss against his temple, and Cas sighed at the reassuring gesture. 

“C’mon, let’s call it a night,” Dean yawned. “You have me working like a mule.”

With a few more chuckles, they crashed on the small mattress stashed in the middle of the living room.


	4. 1997

October 28, 1997

\--

There were a lot of static and loud noises blurring through the background. He could practically hear the strobe lights and crowded rooms. The breath coming through the phone was rapid and shallow. 

“Dean?” Cas hissed into the phone. “Dean? Can you hear me?” 

A loud sigh sounded through the speaker. 

“Dean, it’s almost 2 in the morning, are you okay?” Castiel continued. “Dean!” 

“Mm, Cas,” Dean moaned against the phone. 

Straightening his back, Cas rubbed circles into his temple. 

“Hello, Dean,” he stated. “Where are you?”

“Dunno,” he slurred. “S’mwhere downtown. Lots of hot people and booze.” 

“Yeah, I can hear that. Listen, Dean. You need to grab a cab.”

There was a loud rustle on the other end of the phone; then, the music sounded muffled. 

“Dean?” 

“Was callin’ to tell ya, I love ya, man,” Dean hiccupped. 

“Love you, too,” Cas said quickly. “Have you left the club—?”

“NO!” Dean interrupted. “No, Cas! Cas, Cass-ti-el! You don’t understand, I love you!”

“You’re drunk, Dean. You need to get a ride home,” Cas repeated. 

Sighing, Dean breathed into the phone. “I’m in LA, I want to see you.” 

“Get a cab.” Cas demanded. “I’ll call you in the morning.” 

\--

The afternoon light was blinding as it trailed over his body. Pulling the covers higher, Dean ignored the sound of passing traffic, honking horns, and strangers in reality. Turning, he groaned at the pounding headache. 

From a distance, he heard his phone vibrating, and he muttered curses as he searched for the source. Sliding his blue jeans on from the night before, he felt the black Nokia phone. 

Two missed calls. Castiel Novak. 

He punched in Cas’ number and hit the green call button.

It rang twice. 

“Castiel speaking.” 

Sitting on the bed, Dean smiled. “Heya, Cas. Just returning your call.” 

“Did you make it home okay last night?” Cas sounded disgruntled. Maybe a little pissed.

Dean frowned at the ground. “Yeah, Cas.” 

An obvious sigh of relief sounded from the other end of the phone. 

“I hear you’re in LA,” Cas deadpanned. 

Shaking his head, Dean heard a rustle from the bathroom. “Yeah, only for the day.”

A pen clicked repeatedly in response. 

“Did you want to see me while you’re in my state?” Cas whispered. 

The water from the shower filled Dean’s head with white noise. 

“Uh, it’s kinda a long drive to San Fran, Cas,” Dean sighed. 

Dean could practically envision Castiel’s exaggerative eye roll. 

“I see.” 

Standing, Dean walked to the window and peered over the bustling downtown streets. It was a beautiful, sunny day. 

“We could meet half way?” Dean suggested. “Where would that land us?” 

“Fresno.” 

“Know a good burger joint there?” 

\--

A steady ticking of the second hand of a clock thrummed through the air. Back in university, that repetitive ticking invoked hundreds of headaches while Castiel worked tirelessly through the night to finish research papers and tedious projects. Here, though, the clock seemed to mock Castiel’s patience for Dean’s tardiness. Time ticked forty-five minutes passed their agreed meeting time. 

“Still doin’ alright, sir?” the waiter asked gently. 

Cas shrugged and looked up with a smile. “I’ll have a cheeseburger, please.” 

“Alright, fries or salad?” 

Sighing, Cas handed him the menu with a reassuring nod. “Surprise me.” 

Halfway through his burger, a bell signaled the opening of the main entrance, and Dean stepped in. Keeping his head low, Castiel continued to pick at his food. Whispers crept throughout the small restaurant as Dean pulled the seat opposite of Castiel. 

“Hey, man,” Dean smiled. 

Castiel didn’t look up. “Didn’t think you would show.” He stabbed at the precarious leafy greens of his salad. 

“I got caught in traffic. Sorry, Cas.” 

Finally, he looked up. 

The dirty, wrinkled shirt Dean wore was layered under a plaid, flannel jacket. His hair was spiking in weird directions and sweat shined off his bronzed skin. 

“You look like shit,” Cas stated. 

A fake smile crossed Dean’s bruised lips, and the usual sparkling glimmer in his green eyes was vacant. 

Setting his fork down, Castiel scooted his chair toward Dean’s and grabbed the back of his head. Pulling Dean’s face close, Castiel examined his reddened eyes and yellowish skin. With a disappointed look, Cas reached for his arm. Dirt colored the underside of Dean’s fingernails, but Cas pushed the left sleeve of Dean’s jacket up to his elbow. Healing bruises and weird marks stretched across his forearm. 

Dean yanked his arm away and rolled his sleeve back down with a defensive glare.

“What the fuck are you on, Dean?” 

Dean crossed his arms. “I’m not on anything.” 

Clenching his jaw, Cas scowled. “Dean Winchester. Do not lie to me. You called me last night at a club, in LA of all places. You were completely out of it. God knows what kind of trouble you’re getting into. Amphetamines, Dean? Or is it worse?” Cas inhaled audibly. “Dean. You’re my best friend. Let me help you.” 

“I’m not on anything!” Dean hissed back massaging his arm. “I was in the hospital for—dammit, Cas—I was roofied! Last week or something. I was wasted and my blood pressure dropped so fast. They had to pump me full of fluids.” 

Cas sat back in his chair. “Were you hurt?” 

Huffing, Dean shook his head. “I’ll be fine.” 

“Dean.” Leaning forward, he grasped his friend’s hand. “Stay with me for a while?”

The first genuine smile settled on Dean’s sweet lips. 

“I’d really love to,” Dean started. “But I need to be in LA.”

“Just for a few days.” 

A small shine glinted back into Dean’s eyes. 

“Okay, Casanova.” Dean squeezed Cas’ hand. “Okay.”

**Author's Note:**

> this fic will have a lot of fluff and a lot of angst, be prepared.
> 
> estimating at 20/21 chapters. probably pretty short though. maybe only 20k
> 
> based on the novel/movie, One Day.


End file.
